


Take Three

by cuntoid



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Begging, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Drug Use, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Taunting, Voyeurism, also morty is deffo an adult so eat my ass, claimfuck, dubcon, facefuck, just sayin, noncon, revenge fuck, rickmorty, the rickmorty is on the lighter side and def not the focus of the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 04:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13356768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuntoid/pseuds/cuntoid
Summary: (Commission for a gorgeous bud - a continuation of two other commissions for her OC, Cicada. Can be read as a standalone self-insert.)The Commander has thoroughly used and humiliated both Cicada and Rick. Not to be topped, Rick takes Cicada home and teaches both her and Morty a lesson they won't soon forget.





	Take Three

“Take – open your mouth. Open Y-your goddamn mouth, Morty.”

The three of you stand in the bathroom, atmosphere thick with tension. Rick had taken one look at your naked cunt under your skirt, dripping with the Commander’s leavings, and gotten so incensed that he’d open the portal back up for the two of you to catch Morty in the bathroom. Now you watch them, two furious men and their inhuman capacity for sexual tension, glaring at each other instead of your nude figure. The anger is palpable. In your mind’s eye stand two snapping creatures, jaws frothing with distaste for each other, instead of two humans with a penchant for competition and territorial pissing.

“What is it? I-I don’t wanna take a mystery pill while you’re pissed at me, Rick. Seems s-… you know. Really dumb?”

Rick grabs Morty by the face, digging his fingers into the hollows of his cheeks until Morty is forced to submit and part his jaws for the old man. He forces a glowing capsule down his throat and slaps a hand over Morty’s mouth til he chokes it down, eyes reduced to leaking slits before Rick pulls his hand back to let him cough.

“ _Fhh- fuck y-you_ , Ri-Rick! I fucking – I fucking _hate_ you!” The sting of his words is lost in his hitched breaths, wiping drool off his lips as his sputtering comes to and end. He looks flushed, bright and furious as a star, a burning thing hurtling at Rick through space. Rick smirks.

“You hate me, huh? Didn’t hate me so much when you – when I _jerked you off._ ”

“I _did_ hate you, Rick. I fuckin’ hate you _now_ and, and I fucking hated you _then_. O-Old f-fucking prick.”

“Yeah, yeah, join the club.” Rick turns his attention to you and your blood runs cold. He has you stripped and shaking, sore from the inside out. He runs his eyes over your body as if counting the bruises, cataloguing them, analyzing everything the Commander did to you. His pupils expand until you’re sure you spot fire in them, snapping and cracking at you like a whip. “You’re just – you just can’t help yourself, can you? I have half a mind to keep you chained up, feed you and water you like a fuckin’ hamster. You want that? You wanna be my little dog?”

“I’m s –”

“Dogs don’t talk, _do_ they? Dogs keep quiet or they get a muzzle. Y-You want me to tape that mouth shut?”

You open your mouth to speak and quickly close it, shaking your head in the negative. He circles you and you desperately want to turn your head to watch his every move, but anything that might set him off seems unwise in your current predicament. Instead, you shiver, feeling every little ache and pain resonate in your body like a bell. You feel utterly hollow; Rick glares at your naked form like he wishes to change that.

“Good li-little bitch. On the floor – submissive position.”

“Rick, please…”

Rick stops his stalking to face you, frown splitting into a snarl as his teeth show. He grabs a fistful of your hair and sweeps your legs from under you with a timely little kick, the only anchor keeping you from total collapse being Rick’s fingers digging into your scalp. The settling ache in your muscles screams at the sudden movement, dropping clumsily to your knees and whimpering. Batting at his hand does nothing but provoke him further – he curses under his breath and shoves your head down until your nose practically brushes the tile. Your breath condenses on the floor and slicks up the surface, wet against your cheek as you turn to rest your head. Rick releases your hair and yanks your hips higher. The ache is nearly excruciating in your thighs and the delicate joints where they meet your body, a slow burn that spreads to ignite where Rick parts you open. The sensation of his fingers probing around your cunt is arousing despite the humiliation, the sharp burn of his callouses brushing your raw flesh, soaked still with the Commander’s cum. This time, Rick doesn’t waste any time wiping it from your body and flicking it aside – he’s well past the point of giving a fuck, focused entirely on your ruining. You glance up at Morty and find yourself scraping the bottom of the barrel as far as embarrassment goes; Rick and the Commander have already broken you down so far, and Morty’s already seen so much. It’s useless to do anything at this point but return Morty’s uneasy stare and take note of the bulge reappearing in his slacks.

“You’re really – really uh, hellbent on breaking th-the goddamn rules today, aren’tcha? I-Itchin’ for me to put you back in your place. The Commander might throw his dick around like he actually owns you, but you know what I’m capable of, Cicada. _You know what I can do_.”

His fingers twist and curve to stab into that sweet spot just inside, swollen and sensitive with ache. His threats are like kindling. Each word burns hotter until each mean pump of his hand shoots the pain through with naked, molten need, the desire to prove him right, to show him you’re still his. Always his, _only_ his. 

“Tell me, baby girl. _S-Say it_ , c’mon.”  
“ _I’m yours, Daddy._ ”

“Th-that’s – you’re goddamn fuckin’ right, you are. All _mine_.”

His fingers leave your body and you can see his belt in your mind as clearly as you hear it, the soft clink and rustle as he undoes his uniform and pulls his heavy cock out to bob between your thighs. He nudges them apart with his knees and puts you at an angle you know is going to punish. All you can do is stare mutely at Morty and watch his expression evolve from mild discomfort to arousal, lips parted and eyes hooded, the spray of freckles over his cheekbones lit up in the flush. He looks gorgeous like this. He whines and pushes the heel of his palm against his dick, crumpling forward slightly as if his belly aches. It’s unclear to you who’s in more pain, you or Morty. 

“Rick, I-I, uh… it kinda _hurts_ , you know? Did, did you know it would hurt? Rick? God, I feel like it’s gunna fly off, _fuck_.” For the second time in the same day, Morty liberates his erection and shudders as he finally makes contact with his naked hand, anything bound to be better than the confines of his slacks. In a sensory mirror, Rick’s cock finally pushes up against your body. He runs the tip up and down your slit, parting your cunt lips and teasing at your clit. He stays there a moment to savor the broken sound you make as all the air runs out of your lungs. You keen and push your hips back, ignoring the sharp twinge in favor of trying to sink down on his length, but he eludes you with a cruel little laugh. 

“Doesn’t feel good to have to _wait_ , does it, Morty – y-you fucking urchin. Dumbshit. _Don’t touch it!_ Stand still. Both of you better fucking _behave_.”

His tone has you contracting before he has the head fully inside. The generously slow pace of his hips stutters and he hums, petting the line of your spine before he continues his descent into your body. The walls of your cunt stretch uncomfortably around him and you grit your teeth, eyes clenched shut and ears filled with the sounds both Rick and Morty make, the former grunting as he bottoms out and the latter swallowing hard enough that you hear the click of his throat. 

“I feel you, b-baby doll. Squeezing me already. You can run wild _aalll_ you want – even your pussy knows who it belongs to. Ain’t that right? _Hm?_ Tell Daddy, honey.”

“You’re right, you’re _so right, Daddy_.” Your voice trembles, choked with tears and the weight of your whirlwind emotions. His strokes pick up speed until the sounds of your skin slapping together dominate the limited room and bounce off the walls the same way you do his cock, grinding desperately back to meet him thrust for thrust. Each pound is like another nail in your coffin. The pain usually fades, but this time it lines every pulse, radiates like muffled sirens in the fog of your pleasure. Instinct tells you to say something but it gets lost in the high-pitched shrieks ripping from your throat. 

Morty watches you looking like an anxious wreck, sweat beading at his hairline and streaking down his flushed face to mingle with tears of frustration. His cock bobs over and over and it becomes clear that he’s trying to seek release. His slim hips hitch forward almost in time with Rick’s, eyes switching furtively between your anguished expression and where Rick brutalizes your cunt. 

“Rick, I-I really need to, you know, I gotta – _I gotta cum_. It _hurts_ , m-my fucking _balls_ hurt! I’ll do anything! P-Please…” His hands ghost around his erection like he might scorch the flesh of his fingers if he touches it, hovering in the air with a visible tremor. You can’t tear your eyes away as he slowly drags a bead of fluid over the head – this combined with the hunger in his hollow eyes and the way he keeps biting his lips, licking his teeth as he continues to will himself to completion, makes you dizzy. The thought of his body wracked with so much sensation that he has to hump blindly into nothing and shoot his cum across the bathroom floor haunts you; you’re certain that you’re close enough that it might reach you, his cum on your cheek, your mouth. 

“You’ll do _anything_ , huh?”

“God, y-yes, _anything_.”

“That’s really good to hear, you needy little fuck, be-because all I want you to do is _shut the fuck up and keep your hands off._ If – if you ask again, I swear to fuckin’ Christ, Morty, I-I-I’ll tie you up like this and leave you.”

Morty erupts in a violent string of curses and empty threats, tears tracking down his cheeks in rivulets with his fists clenched. Rick laughs and adjusts his grip on your hips before fucking into you like he means to split you apart. The coolness of the floor and Morty’s shared misery is your only solace here. Everything burns, his thick, searing cock dragging over your raw flesh and creating new electricity there, building until it buzzes in your thighs and belly and you don’t even need his fingers on your clit to force you to the edge. 

“ _Christ, you-you’re tight_. You’re gunna take my cum right into this nice, _tight little cunt_ , just – just like I know you want. You’d be so easy to breed – _mm, f-fuck._ Can’t even say it without you trying to milk me dry with that greedy pussy. So close, right, baby?”

“ _Yes, Daddy._ ” 

“What do you want?”

“You to cum. Fill me up… _please_.”

Rick gasps, burying himself to the hilt, and a growl rumbles from so deep in his chest you _feel_ it as clearly as you can _hear_ it. The second he pistons his hips again, you’re absolutely done for. Orgasm tears through you hard enough that you have to hold your breath, synapses flashing like bulbs as shocking your nervous system with the force of it, the pop and fizz of adrenaline in your veins. He cycles between grunting and his low, menacing laughter, sounding like an animal, grit and gravel studded in those breaths and fueling the steady pulse of your walls around his cock. In the peak of release, the ache of him is nothing less than exquisite. You keen for the feeling of him splitting you in half, driving deeper and deeper until he’s nudging your cervix like an omen. 

Morty’s red gaze is the first thing that greets you upon fluttering your eyes open. His cock is nearly purpled with the effort of holding in his arousal, trapped on the cusp of cumming with his twitching hands rendered useless. Morty is an impatient, bratty boy, quick with his tongue and unwilling to put up with too much bullshit, but his loyalty to Rick shows in his restraint. He digs the edges of his nails into his thighs, his belly, anywhere that will detract from the obvious. It’s clear that his intention is to cancel out the pleasure but it seems to only deepen it, a shiver rippling up his spine after he pinches himself over the ribs. There’s a mix of relief and resignation on his face as his fingers stroke higher and he pinches his own nipple.  
Rick cums almost immediately after your initial shockwave dies down, once your wails are reduced to pathetic little sobs. He presses his body along the line of yours, chest to your back, teeth on your shoulder, and smooths his big hands up to cup your breasts. There’s no kindness in the way he squeezes and kneads them, callouses brushing over the nipples with purpose as he empties his cum in heavy, spurting throbs that you can practically taste, deep as he is. It gushes out of you through the tight ring of your opening, still clenched around Rick as though you’re a bitch in heat. 

He yanks his body back with a wet pop, snickering under his breath at the yelp that springs free from your heaving lungs. He lands a slap soundly on your upturned ass, spreading you open to watch both his seed and whatever’s left of the Commander’s dribble out from your abused cunt. He toys his fingers there for a minute, finding sadistic joy in making you squirm by brushing your clit, untouched during the act and yet far too sensitive for him to toy with now.  
Morty shuffles forward a couple of steps, hand outstretched toward Rick like a dying man in the desert. “Please,” he sniffles, “c-can I cum yet? I really –”

“Stop talking. _Christ_ , you’re like a broken record, M-Morty, at this point it’s like beating the _ghost_ of a dead horse. How- how about you clean her up and then I-I really don’t give a _good goddamn_ what you do as long as you stay out of my fucking way. Get it?”

“Yes,” Morty grits out. His face is a tortured landscape, changing with each second to some flavor of hate, of strain and harrowing need, of a willingness to do any ungodly thing he’s bid. Rick dismisses everything to stretch his lean frame impossibly up, bony fingers folded high above his head as little pops zip up his spine. Sated, he pulls his uniform back on and studies his reflection in the stained mirror before opening the door. 

“I’m going th-the fuck to sleep with a bottle. If I see either of you motherfuckers before tomorrow, there’ll be hell to pay. G’nite.”

There’s a pause between you and Morty as Rick’s footfalls fade down the hall, disappearing somewhere in the depths of your shared home. The only sounds now to accompany you are the pitter-patter of a leaky faucet, Morty’s labored breathing and your teeth chittering together as the room saps you of all the body heat Rick summoned from before.

“L-Let’s get this over with, if you – if you don’t mind, Cicada. I’m sorry, I just – _God_ , it really hurts. Let’s wash you up. I-I swear I’ll be gentle.”

He makes good on his promise the best he can… at first. He’s beyond washing your hair and beginning to lather soap over your body when his hands start wandering below the water level in the tub. Suds float across the surface like islands, clumps of bubbles clinging to each other and leaving you exposed in the wide rifts between. You watch his fingers skate down your inner thigh and brush your pussy lips, his tentative, curious stroking hidden by a passing clutch of bubbles. 

“Ci-Cicada… you _feel good_ ,” he sighs. “S-So _soft_.” He’s pressed against the tub, bending over the edge so that his arm is submerged to the elbow and his hips rut against the edge. He repositions his hips so he can grind the base of his cock on the curved lip of the tub while he fondles you, veins bulging in the shaft so clearly that you can see the minute flutters of his pulse as it hammers through his body and gathers there in the curve of his cock, mashed against the enamel and dripping into the bathwater.

You barely think – you just act, reaching out to smooth wet fingers over the tip, smearing the slick around. He throws his head back with a deliciously delayed moan, howling like an animal when you twist your palm over his slippery flesh and follow the tracks of precum to the base. You do this again, and again, dreamily relaxed in the steam of the room, the leftover ache in your bones. You feel at peace with the cock of a Sanchez in your hand – _go figure._

“ _Cicada, p-please_ ,” he mutters. His gaze is so heavily lidded that he could be sleeping, chin to his chest as he watches from the slits of his eyes. He hyperventilates into the acoustics of the room to join the wet sounds your fist makes, sloppy, obscene enough that you dip below a veil of bubbles until you’re just peeking out from them. He’s breathtaking like this. Your tired loins stir with warmth where he continues to toy with you, as distracted and irregular as his ministrations are. Long fingers, much gentler than any Rick’s, give up their quest to prize an orgasm from touching your clit and bury into your cunt instead, aided by the leavings of his superiors. Despite the tenderness, despite being stretched open twice before this, your overworked muscles contract around him all the same. 

“Cicada. You – you remember my room, r-right? _Mm, Guh-God_ , Cicada, you remember? When you caught me?”

“ _Yeah_ …” You scoot up to resurface from your hiding place in the suds and Morty’s sleepy eyes perk wide open to watch the water line skate down your shoulders and the ample curve of your breasts, nipples peaking with the rush of cool air. 

“You w-wanted to swallow my cum. R-right, Cicada? Fuck, _fuckfuckfuck!_ Cicada! Let me fuh-fuck your mouth, _please_ , I-I-I saw you after, what you – what you did with Rick, so… so come on, please. I _n-need it_.”

He curves his fingers as his plea stretches on – as if you need any more convincing. Running a hand over your own breast, tweaking at your nipple, you swallow him over your tongue and into the back of your throat. He takes the sides of your head gingerly into his hands, nearly as large as his grandfather’s and just as gorgeous, and threads his fingers into your hair before he wrenches you forward. Over and over he yanks you, the sounds coming from his throat nothing short of bestial. The emptiness in your cunt nags at you in enticing little spasms and a spreading tingle, but you ignore it. All of your efforts are focused on Morty’s cock, swallowing back each new gag and trying not to choke on your own spit and the sticky precum flavoring it. 

“Ohh, _f— Cicada, I’m gunna cum_. Y-You gunna eat my cum, Cicada? I cleaned _you_ up, now you clean _me_ up, r-right? Fuck. Oh, _fuck_ , oh _jeez_ —”  
Morty’s cock, already impossibly taut, gives a last powerful throb before ropes of his cum spurt into your throat, sharp hips twitching out of time as he tries to keep lodged as deeply as you can stand it. There’s nothing left in you to even think of defiance. You take all of him until he’s finished, practically sobbing with relief as he dislodges himself and his cock finally begins to soften. 

“Sorry, um… if – if I was rough. I really didn’t mean to.”

You free the plug in the tub and emerge from the water as it drains away into the pipes, rising the opposite of a phoenix. There’s no fire here, no rebirth. Only cold, damp flesh, the seed of three men and your blood, sweat and tears. There’s an ocean of pain and pleasure to drown in, here – who needs fire?

“You’re okay, Morty. Swear.”

He’s gentle with you as he sprays you off and towels you dry, the two of you sagging against each other in the boneless aftermath of the morning. With nothing left to do but avoid Rick, you decide there’s merit in hiding together; Morty laces his fingers with yours as he leads you to his room and peels back his blankets, the most inviting gesture you’ve been on the receiving end of lately. Wrapped chin-deep in blankets and lost in Morty’s long tangle of spider-limbs, you fall into an easy and well-deserved sleep.


End file.
